


Proxy (Cinco Mujeres Remix)

by soundingsea



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Character of Color, Chromatic Character, Community: remix_redux, Female Protagonist, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-29
Updated: 2007-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundingsea/pseuds/soundingsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idol, memory, saint, fool, sinner: five women's views of Weevil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proxy (Cinco Mujeres Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Proxy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11650) by [SilentSiren47 (Valonia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valonia/pseuds/SilentSiren47). 



> Spoilers: "Plan B" (2x17)  
> Thanks: spiralleds &amp; cadhla for beta-reading.

*  
Ophelia  
*

Ophelia shakes a bag of Skittles like she's thinking about buying it. With her other hand, she slips a Snickers into the pocket of her pink Dora the Explorer jacket. She's going to be just like Uncle Eli when she grows up. He's too smart to pay for things, like when she helped him sneak that heavy box out of the high school carnival and he called her a natural.

She sets the Skittles down and skips up to the front counter of the Sac-N-Pac. While Nana buys Epsom salts and other old-people stuff, Ophelia reads the cashier's nametag. "Wallace", she says inside her head. She doesn't even move her lips, because she's six now and she's one of the best readers in first grade.

Nana takes her hand as they head out of the Sac-N-Pac. It's important to hold hands where there are cars. Holding hands is almost as important as avoiding Bad Influences.

When Ophelia climbs into the car, she tells Nana about wanting to be like Uncle Eli. She doesn't show Nana the Snickers bar, though. That would make Nana mutter things that she thinks Ophelia doesn't really understand. Nana is wrong; Spanish is easy.

"Better to be like Eli than like your Tio Chardo," Nana says. She starts the car, and the radio is playing a sad Mexican song.

Ophelia looks out the window and thinks about her uncles. She doesn't look good in orange, so she decides she's never getting caught. And she won't, because she's a natural.

 

*  
Carmen  
*

A carved wooden trunk sits at the foot of Carmen Ruiz's bed. Mementos like the doll and tiera from her _quinceañera_ share space with her mathlete trophies and reams of old schoolwork. Her middle school notebooks are covered with "Carmen Navarro": childish dreams writ large in loopy longhand.

These days Weevil's a once and future gang leader who sometimes rides the school bus. That doesn't really make sense, but Carmen's not going to ask; she's too busy taking AP Calc and applying for early decision at Cal Tech. She's done wasting her time on high school boys, especially those who can't seem to walk past a tattoo parlor without succumbing to an impulse purchase.

Anyhow, considering how satisfied Weevil looks coming out of the boys' bathroom, with a smug Logan Echolls three steps behind, she's pretty sure that ship has sailed.

 

*  
Gabriela  
*

Saturday stretches out forever, an elastic band that never quite snaps. After the haircuts, massages, and mani-pedis that fill the day, Gabriela Toombs sits in her brightly-lit salon and squints at a flickering computer screen. Owning a small business means quarterly taxes, and they aren't going to figure themselves.

It's almost midnight when she locks up and starts down the 101. A sobbing woman on public radio talks about losing her son in Iraq. Gabriela hits the button for another station, her eyes blurring. She's lost two sons in a war here at home, but she has no desire to talk to the circling dogs of the media.

A yellow SUV passes her on the right, narrowly missing her passenger-side mirror and then veering close to the guard rail. She's seen that car on the cable news magazine shows she knows by heart, and her pulse races. For a second, she almost gives in to the impulse to ram him. But Lupita is waiting for her at home; she's got to think of her daughter. Gustavio and Felix are gone.

Like the answer to a prayer she hasn't spoken, the Navarro boy is driving a low-slung green junker that's nowhere near a safe following distance from that Echolls bastard's car. Echolls pulls off onto a deserted beach, and that friend of her lost sons follows him.

Maybe Logan Echolls will get what he deserves. Gabriela drives on, singing along to a mournful ballad on the radio.

 

*  
Anita  
*

Sunday morning, Anita Cortez makes the week's schedule for the Neptune Grand Housekeeping department. Fatima and Ayah are out this week, but Jeff wants more daytime hours and is cross-trained; he can fill in again.

Occupancy isn't very high right now, and most floors are already flipped well before lunchtime. Anita pulls out her knitting. The remaining skein of dusty rose yarn is just enough to finish the receiving blanket for Hector's baby.

She hopes her nephew stays out of trouble now that he's going to be a father. No more time for playing at motorcycle gang with that Eli Navarro. Jury duty is enough legal involvement for the Cortez family. Sending some rich white boys on a well-deserved Chino vacation doesn't bring Marisol Reyes or Felix Toombs back, though.

Speaking of rich white boys, someone should clean up after That Murdering Bastard. Jeff isn't answering the radio, so Anita stabs her knitting needles into the yarn and leaves it on her desk.

The service elevator whisks Anita up to the right floor and she wheels her cleaning cart to the penthouse. After a perfunctory knock that gets no response, she lets herself in. Mess Central is usually in the bedroom this far-too-long-term guest actually uses, but she pauses at the bedroom door; the bed's occupied.

Logan Echolls stirs, his head resting on the warm brown skin of a man's heavily tattooed chest. Well, well, well. Isn't that interesting. She steps forward until she can see the second man's face, then shakes her head and exits quietly. Yeah, tabloids pay, but news like this would kill her old friend Leticia.

Anita always knew that Eli was a bad influence. Good thing Hector met a girl.

 

*  
Leticia  
*

Children are a blessing and a trial. Eli's mother, rest her soul, was such a beautiful child, sunny and delightful until she went the way of fast cars and faster boys, and ended badly.

Weevil hasn't gotten any girls pregnant yet, but Leticia has her own concerns about why that might be. He spends all his time in the company of men, and he hasn't mentioned a girl since that Lilly Kane broke his heart. (Oh, Leticia isn't stupid. When Eli has something as uncharacteristic as a pink plastic pen sticking out of the pocket of his leather jacket, she's going to snoop.)

Many months after that last time (may it be the last time) in jail, Weevil comes downstairs and heads for the front door. Her heart leaps like it always does. Someday it's going to be the last time he's walking out that door, and she won't know until after.

"Where are you going, _hijo_?" Leticia asks. She doesn't expect an answer, but she can't help asking.

Eli catches the screen door on his way through it, and turns back to her. "I'm headed to confession at St. Mary's, Nana. Don't wait up."

When he's gone, Leticia kneels before her altar to the Virgin. She crosses herself and prays.

_Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte._

*


End file.
